Remember Me
by freaky bitch
Summary: Harry is abandoned and thrown in Azkaban. -Features a dark and slightly insane Harry. Rating will go up if I continue this story.


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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the paperclip holding up my hair. Yes you read that correctly, there is a paperclip holding my hair up, DEAL WITH IT!

_There is something I don't know_

_that I am supposed to know._

_I don't know what it is I don't know,_

_and yet am supposed to know_

_And I feel I look stupid_

_if I seem both not to know it_

_an not know what it is I don't know._

_Therefore, I pretend I know it._

_This is nerve-wracking since I don't_

_know what I must pretend to know._

_Therefore, I pretend I know everything_

_**- Knots (1970)**__** by R.D. Laing**_

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I don't remember.

I don't remember what? I guess that's what I don't remember. I giggle, really, who would want to remember anything in a place like this? I don't, that's for sure. I don't remember why I'm here, for how long, or why the fuck I'm always hurting, always bloody, always bruised, always, always hurting. I only remember my name..

Harry Potter.

I whisper my old name too the walls only too have the sound bounce back at me and smack me in the face. An ugly name too it is. I used to really like the name, y-know? Especially the ending part, the Potter part, it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I let out another giggle, I giggle at myself and how stupid I was back then, not that I remember much from before these walls. Like I said before, I don't remember.

But that's not completely true I suppose, I do remember flashes. They are mostly flashes of blood and twisted faces, of broken body's lying shattered across the floor and the screams, _the screams_. Even though I'm not quite certain those flashes are real or just fragments of my imagination., they look real and they certainly _feel_ real. I do have other memory's, off better time's back when they called me a hero, when I had friends, when I was loved for the first -and probably last- time in my life. But they rare, and the longer I'm locked up in here the more seldom they get.

I'm unusually talkative today, I wonder why. Something about today feels special, but I just can't put my finger on what exactly. I giggle again. It doesn't really matter.

I rub my face against the wall, the surface is cool and pleasant to my tainted skin. And then, suddenly, I let out a scream of rage. How could they! How could they, after all I did for them, after all I went trough. Then I giggle again, curious that even if this place has taken my sanity in a few months (or that's how long I think it took, I don't exactly have a clock here now do I) I can still be angry at them after all these years.

But hey, its not something you forget easily. Do you want to know? Do you really want to know what happened? And even if you don't want to know I'm going to tell anyway. I personally don't remember a thing, but the guy in the room next to me occasionally talks, not that it's very coherent most of the time, but around once a year something actually sane comes out of his mouth, and so resulting into me knowing my own history. Ironic isn't it?

But anyway, I was born on July the thirty-first, child of the loving parents Lily Evans and James Potter. But, unfortunately, the loving little family picture didn't last long, an evil dude named Voldemort thought that it would be an good idea if he killed me, and so my parents. So this guy comes to our house (with a little help from a rat or something like that, I couldn't really hear him) and kills my parent. And then, when he tries to kill me..

He failed.

That supposed-to-be-evil-and-going-for-world-domination,-I'm-the-strongest-and-kill-everyone-I-don't-like-guy failed to kill an infant, me, and disappeared (I personally think more out of shame than anything else). And that's where all the jazz starts. A wizard named Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea if I staid with the muggle relatives from my mothers side.

It was NOT.

My dear aunt and uncle treat me like dirt, or something worse. I lived in a closet under the stairs and was abused from time to time, I don't know how bad it was but I know it wasn't pretty. So you can imagine the scandal when I got my letter and they found out. Personally, I was happier than ever before. I got sorted into Gryffindor, made friends and was a happy guppy. And except for the fact that the great dude made an appearance every year (or almost every year, the guy next-door didn't really know) I was happier than I had ever been. But then..

Are you hanging in my lips, simply dying to hear what comes next? No? Pity. I thought it was really dramatic actually. And I giggle again, really, I can't help it.

Well, you see, they didn't bring me to their world to be happy, they brought me their to fight for them, to do what they where to chicken for to even think about. And in the beginning they thought I actually had a chance. But that faith started to lessen and lessen the longer they knew me. I was to weak, I had yet to show any sign of extraordinary power and I was to soft. The only good thing I had going for me was that I was very strong willed.

Butttt that was not my point. The point was, or is I guess, that I was not the hero-warrior they had expected and needed.

So they dumped me.

They framed me with murder as soon as they even got a hunch that I was too weak to kill the guy that killed my parents and came back to destroy there perfect little world.

..Or that's what I think happened. Because I _Know_ (think) that I would never kill twenty-fore students in cold blood. I know (think) I would never rape, torture and pain them just for my own enjoyment.

..That's before I was dropped in this hell at least, because now, I would. Oh yes I would, I would enjoy seeing the faces of the people that put me here in agony. I would love to hear them scream and see them suffer like they made (make!) me suffer.

Because, you see, the story doesn't end with me getting accused with murder, oh no, I wish it did, but sadly it didn't. This part I didn't hear from the guy next to me, but (sort of) remember. You see, when they framed me (I think) I, of course, turned to my friends for support, understanding and help.

There was none.

As soon as the accusing words left the minister's mouth they grew cold and uncaring. They said horrible things and accused me of being 'evil' al along. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I do remember how it felt, how bad it _hurt_.

So that was my biography. More or less. I can't be sure. Because I really don't remember, but I will once I leave this place I will remember (or so I hope), so then I will be able to say for certain.

I lay my face against the wall and giggle again. Oh, If they only bothered to check on me once in a while like they did in the beginning (or so I think they did, like I said, I don't remember), they would have found I'm not as powerless as they think me to be.

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_Words: +/- 1345__ (three pages in Microsoft Word)_

I hope you enjoyed it ^^ Please let me know what you think of it (criticism is welcome) and if you want me to continue.

So Review!!! Even a review consisting of one word would suffice! Just let me know you like what I'm doing.

Have a lovely day,


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